How to save a life
by quarterlifecrisis
Summary: "I don't care what else he's done! He saved my life!""Ms. Lewis, saving your life, one among many, is not enough to call him rehabilitated. In fact, he probably only did it to gain a measure of sympathy.""It worked, Director Fury." Another Darcy/Loki story, I'm obsessed :). Post-Avengers. Reviews are appreciated. Had some formatting issues, if I missed any let me know.
1. Chapter 1

All characters and references are owned by their respective genius creators.

"I don't care what else he's done! He saved my life!"

"Ms. Lewis, saving your life, one among many, is not enough to call him rehabilitated. In fact, he probably only did it to gain a measure of sympathy."

"It worked, Director Fury."

Darcy stalked down the long hallway toward Loki's prison, angry and indignant that he'd been placed back in captivity. Well, she tried to stalk; stalking was definitely where her mind was. Her body, though, just sort of lurched painfully. Loki had saved her in the attack yesterday, snatched her from being crushed to death by a falling piece of some building, and now he was back in an updated glass prison similar to the one he'd been in before. Although he was here to help, to make some amends for his actions two years ago as part of his punishment from Odin, no one really trusted him. It was made clear to everyone that he was being forced to help, so no one believed he was truly contrite. Thor was the only one among any of them to spare him a glance that wasn't filled with animosity, and even he kept a suspicious eye on his brother. Darcy had just avoided him.

What really burned Darcy now about the whole thing was how obvious it was that Fury was quietly thrilled about Loki being back; despite his distrust he got a special little gleam in his eye whenever Loki spoke, like with each word he was learning a new way to manipulate people from the master himself, which she supposed he was. Fury was a guy that knew how to read people, knew what made them tick and how to use it against them. It wasn't a wonder he admired Loki, the God of Lies and Mischief, though sometimes it appeared Fury himself was the more ruthless. When the truth had come out about Agent Coulson, that he hadn't died, that Fury had told the Avengers he was dead to give them a martyr, it had nearly destroyed them all, especially Steve Rogers. In fact, if there was one being the Avengers trusted less than Loki, it was Fury. Unfortunately for Loki, however, they were presenting a united front against him, cracked though it was. To them, Loki was still the bad guy.

But as she made her way to where he was being held, Darcy knew that without Loki's help yesterday she would have been collatoral damage, just another innocent civilian lost in the war with Thanos. She wasn't a superhero or a soldier or an assassin or a super science geek. She didn't have a lot of value to men like Nick Fury, and although Thor and the other Avengers were fond of her and considered her a friend, none of them had been there to save her. Bruce Banner had been tearing his way through the enemy and also, unfortunately, the building directly above where Darcy was standing, getting people out of harm's way, doing the only thing she really could to help. There was so much noise and destruction all around her and she'd never even seen the enormous chunk of contrete and twisted steel hurlting toward her. All she really remembered was looking around, trying to make sure everyone was out of the street, then a powerful blow lifting her off her feet and stunning her senseless. The rest had come to her in flashes, like a strobe light going off in her head. Darkness, then leather and metal. Darkness, a pale face. Darkness, black hair. She had the feeling of being set down, of intense eyes and elegant hands searching for injuries and finding them, crushing pain down the right side of her body where she'd been hit. Then mercifully, darkness again.

Darcy had woken up in a hospital bed on a new SHIELD helicarrier, certain that she was being tortured. She couldn't take a deep breath, or even a normal breath, without a vice clamping viciously down around her chest and she wondered what she'd done to warrent such brutal attention. Opening her eyes, she tried to call for someone, anyone, to tell her what was going on but her voice couldn't push its way out of her dry throat. Darcy plucked an electrode off her skin, figuring it was a heart monitor and that someone would come when it stopped. Everything remained quiet, though, so she flicked another black monitor off her finger and pulled the oxygen tube away from her nostrils and over her head. She considered the IV in her arm, deciding there was probably something important in it so she left it alone. Plus, the pole made a great walker. Bonus points. Darcy shuffled her way out of the infirmary and was surprised at how empty it was, then glad considering she would have been mooning anyone who happened to be there. She found some scrubs and wrestled her way into them, having to sit several times in the process to make the black spots dancing in front of her eyes go away. She caught a glimps of her body as she did, dark ugly bruising coloring her entire right side and wrapping around her back and chest. Big ouch.

She'd had to wander around for quite a while before she found anyone, but when she did, Darcy discovered everyone together in one room. How convenient. Now someone could tell her what the hell was going on. As she approached the room she caught her reflection in the glass wall and winced. The red scrubs she wore only emphasized the deathly pale of her face and the circles under her eyes and what appeared to be another large bruise on her forhead. Lovely. As she moved to the doorway, everyone's attention was focused on a large tv on the opposite wall, replaying satellite videos of yesterday's attack. Darcy memory flashed again, to leather and metal, and then it all came back at once and she gasped and the pain was brilliant but she _remembered_. Suddenly she was surrounded by people, shouting surprised questions. She looked past Jane's worried face to focus on the tv again, seeing the Avengers engaged in battle and destruction. The Hulk was hanging off the side of a building, smashing an enemy completely through the exterior wall, chunks of debris falling to the street below. A blur of movement from streetlevel, then an image that burned itself into her brain as strongly as anything she'd ever seen. It only lasted a moment, but that it was the moment her life had been saved.

By Loki.

"Wh..Wha..." Darcy couldn't get the words out, the pain and confusion arresting her voice and body. Jane handed her a bottle of water, which helped. A large tablet, pain medicine, helped more. When she could breathe again, she demanded to know what had happened, then where Loki was. Well, she meant to demand it, but it came out sounding breathless and weak. Everyone looked around uncomfortably, a few significant glances shared, but no one met her eyes.

"Where. Is. He." There. That sounded better. And it got everyone's attention, though they all looked over her shoulder rather than right at her. Annoyed, Darcy opened her mouth to let them have it when a new voice boomed from behind her. Darcy whipped around, startled and waking her pain from its slight repose, but she met Nick Fury's single eye and concentrated on staying on her feet. Good job, Darce.

The argument had been harsh, Fury not pulling any verbal punches, reminding Darcy again and again how untrustworthy Loki was, how dangerous he was. She'd thrown his hypocrisy right back in his face, refusing to let him get away with throwing the man who had saved her life in jail for his trouble. Thor had backed her up. The others stayed quiet, not agreeing with Darcy but not supporting Fury either. She'd stomped past Fury to make her way to the holding cell, the pain and the medicine forcing her to move slowly, certainly slowly enough to be stopped. Darcy was no match for anyone in that room even while well, especially without her taser, and injured as she was any one of them could have forced her back to bed. But they hadn't.

They knew she was right. Or at the very least, she wasn't completely wrong.

Finally, after an eternity, Darcy and her trusty IV pole limped into the room where Loki's glass-walled prison was kept. She had to stop, leaning heavily against the wall, trying to catch her breath and not breathe all at the same time. Her body felt weighed down and her mind felt fuzzed by the drugs.

"You should be in bed."

Darcy's eyes snapped up at the velvety sound of his beautiful voice, an unexpected ache settling in her belly, shocking. Drugs, Darce, drugs. Though she didn't think Lortab was an aphrodesiac.

He was standing in the middle of the cell, hands clasped behind his back, shoulders wide, spine straight. The sight of him standing like that, so proud and regal, with none of the menace he exuded during his own attack but instead a reserved coolness, looking tired and dirty as though he hadn't even been allowed to clean up after the battle, reignited her anger at his treatment. Straightening her own spine, she made her way across the room with all the grace she could muster, which wasn't much. He tracked her with his eyes, all the way to the door of his cell. She had to do another lean when she got there and she hated that she looked so weak in front of him, though he didn't have that condescending snear that he ususally wore around "puny mortals." Clutching her middle, slumped over the the pole and covered in cold sweat, Darcy met his gaze and tried to remember to breathe, not just from the pain but from the intensity that surrounded Loki, even imprisoned.

"You saved me." It came out rough, the drugs and the pain and the fear and the gratitude and that something that she couldn't name taking her voice past its natural huskiness and into unknown territory. Now that she'd found him, could see him and know what he'd done for her, whatever stores of strength she'd used to get here fled, leaving her so weak she trembled.

Or maybe that was just him.


	2. Chapter 2

Wow! Thanks so much for the reviews and favs/follows! This will definitely be a multi-chapter story. I usually just keep writing until it feels finished. Thanks again, and enjoy!

Loki stood in the cell SHIELD had rebuilt, trying hard not to lose his temper. During his punishment on Asgard, he'd been forced to relearn self-control and it had not been a task he'd taken to easily. He knew the mortals here on Earth thought he'd gotten off lightly, been slapped on the wrist and sent to his room without dinner, then forgiven like the prodigal son. He scoffed. Let them think that, if it made him that much more intolerable to them. They knew nothing of the horrors Odin was capable of contriving, and Loki had suffered through most of them at the hands of the guards he'd grown up being protected by, some of whom had delighted in the opportunity. But really, what was a little disembowlment between old friends?

He'd fought against the torture for an eternity to these mortals, another little trick of Odin's that allowed a pocket of time to surround Loki, shrinking three hundred years of punishment into a matter of months on Earth. By the time he'd finally relented, finally stopped cursing them and fighting back, every bone in his body had been broken dozens of times, every drop of his blood spilled over and over, his eardrums burst from the sound of his own screams. Yet every day was a new day, he would wake healed and perfect only to be torn apart again. He'd learned, in the hardest way possible, to swallow his pride and take his punishment, to suffer in silence. As he had gained control of his emotions and reactions, the punishments had become less harsh until they had stopped altogether. Then he was bound and gagged and left alone in a cold solitary confinement with nothing more than his own thoughts to occupy him. Eventually, he'd come to the conclusion that he really was a monster, too small and pathetic to be kept by his true parents, a tool stolen by Odin, a lesser being that could never live up to Thor, and that it had driven him insane. But he couldn't hate them anymore. Hate, like love, implied passion, and his passion had been beaten from him.

Loki sighed tiredly. Why Thor had brought him back to Earth to "help" was beyond him. He didn't want to be here, his supposed comrades in arms didn't want him here. He would fight for his brother though, for the only family, the only friend, he had left in the universe. Once he'd come to understand that it wasn't Thor's fault that Odin would never love him the way he loved Thor, that Thor was actually a good man now, that Thor had fought to free Loki during the worst of his punishment, Loki wanted his brother to have some measure of peace. And that peace would come when this world was safe, when Thor could be with his Jane Foster, and when Thor was convinced that Loki was sane again. So he fought to defend his brother's adopted home, however grudgingly, and would continue to do so.

Of course, that would be much easier to do if he weren't imprisoned again. Loki's rage boiled at the thought of that self-righteous Fury, at the way he thought he could manipulate the God of Lies. Fury actually believed he was getting something out of this situation, besides the headache Loki was sending his way when he was freed. How thick did the man have to be to think anyone believed his act of "taking precautionary measures" by arresting Loki after the battle? He hadn't hurt that girl and they all knew it. Fury wanted something from him. It was only a matter of time until he found out what.

As though conjured by his thoughts, the girl walked into the room, clutching a tall rolling metal pole as though it were all that was keeping her off the floor. She had to lean against the wall and he stared at her, noting the injuries to her face, and by the look of her, she was injured elsewhere as well. He remembered her painful reaction yesterday when he'd touched her side and it dawned on him that her ribs were most likely broken. She'd been standing when he had yanked her from danger, so when had she gotten broken ribs?

She needed rest, and he told her as much. She straightened and slowly made her way over to him, the pain evident in the lines of her face and the way she moved. What was she doing here? Where were her healers? Why wasn't anyone with her? She stopped in front of the door to his cell, leaning again.

"You saved me."

Loki was taken back, genuinely surprised. Yes, he'd saved her, but she'd felt it necessary to come all the way here from the infirmary to confront him about it? And with gratitude no less? What a strange mortal she was. Her voice was low, words drawn out in a way that suggested she was medicated. Maybe she didn't know where she was? She visibly shivered and it occurred to him that, if not for her obvious discomfort, she would be quite attractive like that, low voiced and trembling. He shook his head to clear it. Those were not appropriate thoughts to have about an injured woman, and even he had enough honor to be ashamed.

"Yes, you did." She mistook his head shaking for a denial of his helping her. "You saved my life. I remember some of it, and I just saw it all on video."

She seemed to run out of steam after her outburst, leaning more heavily on her pole. His eyes followed a clear tube from the bag hanging on the pole to a bandage on top of her hand. So she was medicated, though it didn't seem to be helping her much. She needed to lie down, before she fell and injured herself further. Best to get her to state her purpose so she could leave.

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm getting you out."

**Author's note: That line about hate implying passion similar to love is taken from an interview with Tom Hiddleston, who was discussing the brotherly relationship between Thor and Loki. I thought it was a beautiful sentiment, and of course it didn't hurt that Tom said it! :)**


	3. Chapter 3

I don't want to bore anyone by updating too quickly, but the warm glow of reviews has prompted me to go ahead and post this. It is a short one, for me anyway. Enjoy!

Darcy watched Loki's head snap back in shock at her declaration, and figured he thought she was here to yell at him or something. He definitely had the right to expect her to be nasty, since everyone else had been. She wanted to talk to him some more, but she honestly didn't think she'd be concious for that much longer. Pain medicine always knocked her out, and she'd taken it on an empty stomach so it was hitting her hard. The pain itself was tolerable now, but she hated the groggy feeling it left behind.

Right, get him out now, talk later. She entered the security code that she used to get into the building into the door, hoping that would work.

"Damn."

Of course it didn't work. She hadn't really thought it through when she'd come on her little rescue mission, a side effect of shock and meds, she supposed. No wonder no one had bothered to stop her before. They knew she couldn't get to him. She looked up, an apology forming on her lips, but the look on his face kept her quiet.

Evidently he had known it too.

Darcy slid down the glass wall to sit on the floor, her legs so unsteady she didn't want to risk falling on her face. She was numbed out, not even feeling the cold steel under her butt. She didn't even react when she turned her head and saw Loki kneeling next to her, on his side of the glass, concern etched in the beautiful lines of his face. He was saying something, he had such a gorgeous voice. She lifted a hand to touch the glass in front of his face, wishing she could feel his skin. His jaw dropped a bit and his eyes went wide, and she giggled, thinking it was extremely funny to have shocked the God of Mischief. Could he tell what she was thinking? Or maybe she had said something out loud. Either way, she was pretty sure she'd be embarrassed later, but for the life of her she couldn't figure out why. She was passing out as Thor came into the room, heard his big booming boots hurrying over, and just before her eyes closed she could swear Loki had lifted his hand to meet hers through the glass.


	4. Chapter 4

**I know the last chapter was super short, and for that I apologize. I will probably go back and add more to it at some point, but in the meantime, I hope this new chapter will make up for it a bit. I wrote it quickly, then revised literally for hours. Hope you enjoy it. **

"You should get some rest, brother."

Thor squeezed his shoulder until Loki looked up and nodded, conceeding to his brother's point. Thor bowed slightly, and left the little infirmary, leaving Loki alone with Darcy Lewis, who was still sleeping off the effects of the pain medication. Loki had placated his brother, but he knew he wouldn't be able to rest until she awoke. He sat in the chair next to her bed, not bothering to glance at monitors that told him nothing, instead studying her face and the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. She looked so small and pale, even against the white sheets. She was only a mortal, and though she was young and would have an easier time healing, she was still very vulnerable. And she was here because of him.

Loki stood again, pacing the room, wringing his hands, rubbing his face. He'd been stoic while anyone else was here, not daring to show how upset he was at learning the truth. Honestly he hadn't been so shaken since Odin had fallen into the AllSleep, and he wondered what had happened to his detachment. During his attacks, he hadn't cared what happened to any of these mortals; if they lived they could serve and worship him and if they perished then it was only mercy-killing, really. So many in this realm wasted their brief lives and he would only be saving them the trouble. When he'd come back to Earth with Thor, he had pitied them their vulnerability but hadn't felt any particular fondness or affinity for them, and for the most part still didn't. Mortals moved on very quickly, most likely because of their limited life expectancy, and had rebuilt their city and all but forgotten their own tragedies, except when given the opportunity to place blame or show up at a charity event or hold a candlelight vigil. He supposed he could find their self-centered nature a nod to his own, but after his punishment he seemed to lack the energy for gloating.

He had paid no attention to Darcy Lewis upon his return. She wasn't an Avenger or a member of SHIELD, she was only here because Jane Foster wanted her around and she knew too much to be let go. Fury ignored her for the most part, and no one, not even Jane, behaved as though Darcy contributed anything other than beverages and a running commentary, though they all seemed to enjoy her company. He'd noticed her laughing with his brother one day, the way she threw her head back and chuckled at him irritating Loki for some reason. Beyond that, she'd hardly been a blip on his radar, to borrow a phrase.

Loki was glad that Thor had come into the prison room when he had, just as Darcy was losing conciousness. His brother had swept her up, pole and all, carrying her away, then returned to free him. Loki had pretended he wasn't curious about her condition and why she'd come to let him out; her gratitude had seemed genuine but in his experience greed was the more powerful motivation. He'd assumed she wanted something from him, though what he couldn't begin to guess.

Then Thor had shown him the video of the battle.

And he realized that he'd been moving so fast when he saved Darcy that he had actually broken her ribs himself.

He had been strangely devastated, all the emotions he had buried while being tortured flooding through him for the first time in eons. His anger had only managed to break through in small bursts until that point, and he was so overwhelmed with it then that the glass wall of the office had vibrated dangerously, the other people in the room backing away and covertly reaching for their weapons in case they were needed. Fury was a fool for letting Darcy stay here, and an even greater one for letting her outside during the battle. Loki had clenched his fists until his knuckles went white and bared his teeth, wishing for a few minutes alone with that reckless bastard, who had then dared to accuse him of only saving Darcy for what he'd called "brownie points". He wasn't familiar with the term, but he'd gotten the message behind it and whirled on the man, bumping up against Thor, who had wisely placed himself between the two. Loki had forced his eyes closed and several deep breaths into his lungs, his brother's voice in his ear begging him not to fall for Fury's trickery. As though Loki would give the him the satisfaction. He'd calmed himself, cloaking his body and voice in pure ice, and met Fury's gaze.

"Perhaps if you weren't so incompetent in the protection of your own people, Ms. Lewis would not have needed saving."

Bruce Banner had seemed to deflate at that, the knowledge that Hulk was the reason for the danger drawing the steel from the man's spine. Loki didn't particularly blame the Hulk for what had happened, though he was certainly no fan, but he was too angry to bother with reassurances, and Banner had his friends for that. Let them sort themselves out. Loki had stalked from the room, shattering the glass because there was only so much he could do to suppress his anger and because it would keep them all on edge and because he felt like being childish. Loki had wandered for a while, no real destination in mind, before Banner caught his arm, pulling him to a stop. He expected a confrontation, or at the very least a threat considering what the Hulk had done to him before, and he jerked away, falling into a fighting stance, waiting. Banner had surprised him though, standing back and meeting Loki's eyes, palms out in surrender.

"I know you didn't mean to hurt her."

Loki had looked away then, his anger burning down to a low simmer, guilt and concern for Darcy overshadowing it. He didn't even know how to find her, to make sure she was alright, though he was certain Thor had made sure she was being taken care of.

"I know what it's like for you, Loki. I understood the monster in you before, and I understand it now." Banner paused, clearing his throat, eyes on the floor. "I've hurt a lot of people too, some that I've cared about. I get it." Another pause. "Come on."

And with that, Banner had led a somewhat uncomfortable and disconcerted Loki to where he was now. To Darcy.

A soft sigh from the bed drew his attention back to her and he returned to her bedside, assessing her condition, the condition HE had put her in. She seemed to be growing more uncomfortable and he assumed that meant her medication was wearing off. Jane had said that Darcy shouldn't be given more since it appeared not to agree with her, but Loki hated that she was in pain, that HE had put her in such pain, and he stayed at her side to bear witness to her suffering as penance.

She opened glassy eyes and he stepped back, not wanting to startle her when she fully woke. She licked her lips and groaned a little, and suddenly he was remembering the things she'd said before she passed out. She'd said he was beautiful, that she wished she could touch him, had actually put her hand on the glass as though to reach him. He knew she had been speaking through the chemicals in her system, but as the God of Lies, he also knew the truth when he heard it, and it humbled him more than any torture from Odin. He'd never been called beautiful before, and from anyone else he'd have taken it as an insult, an implication of something feminine about him. Not that being a beautiful woman was a bad thing, but he'd had enough of people thinking him less than masculine because he wasn't as aggressive and physically powerful as Thor. He'd had his share of lovers, though the only reason they'd wanted to touch him was to gain his political favor, or from simple curiosity about some of his more lascivious nicknames, or as revenge against another. They had used him and he had used them in return and it had never really bothered him. But hearing this mortal girl call him beautiful made him wish for things he shouldn't.

Not that Loki would act on such romantic notions, if Darcy even remembered them. For as she finally blinked awake and met his gaze, there was only one completely alien thought in his head, one thing of which he was absolutely certain.

Darcy Lewis deserved better than him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Ask and ye shall recieve, lovely reviewers!**

Darcy had strange dreams while the drugs burned through her system, about crumbling buildings and lovely long-fingered hands and metal monsters and the greenest eyes she'd ever seen. The dream would flicker behind her eyelids, from noise and destruction to quiet sighs and soft sensous lips, from horror and despair to silky sheets and sliding fingers. As she woke with a moan, she struggled to hold onto the dream, not caring that she had to get past the bad stuff to get to the good. Because it was oh, so good.

The dream slipped away but Darcy kept her eyes closed, savoring the way her body felt, warm and womanly, and had the depressing thought that she hadn't ever felt the things in real life that her dream had given her. She'd had a few boyfriends in high school and college, had slept with two of them, and while both experiences had been pleasant enough, she'd never been left feeling as she did now. Deliciously feminine.

A wave of pain exploded past her glow, her eyes popping open to the world's worst reminder of why she was in bed in the first place. Gah, that hurt. Her side was on fire and her chest was heavy, like someone had mistaken her skin for asphalt and parked their car there. With Mjolnir in it.

The pain focused her and she looked around the room for somebody to cry to. No one was there at first and she whimpered, then thought maybe she'd fallen back into her dream. Loki was there, standing next to her bed and staring at her with a strangely gentle expression, so exquisitely handsome she actually forgot her misery for a moment. All she could think of was the way he'd made her feel in her dream and wondered if he would be as fantastic in reality. He was a god, after all. She shook her head, as much as she could manage anyway. Bad Darcy, bad.

"Are you in need of something, Ms. Lewis?"

Oh. Now there was a loaded question she wouldn't mind answering. She shivered, his voice just too much on her sanity, already burdened by pain and medicine left-overs and hot dreams. She heard him move, heading out the door, probably to get some help. Not a bad idea, but she didn't want him to leave. He might not come back.

"Wait."

God, her throat was dry and her voice was more like a croak than anything. It stopped him though and when she motioned him back inside, he considered her for a moment, quickly sticking his head out the door before returning to her bedside. He stood so straight, even as she took in the dark circles under his eyes and the fact that he was still wearing his battle clothes, though he had removed most of his armor. Her eyes drank him in and he was stunning in his strength, leather molded to every curve of muscle and bone. He wasn't a bulked-up beefcake like his brother and he didn't have the easy smile and warm disposition Thor did, but Loki radiated power in the same way. It was a cold, sleek kind of power, more like a panther than a lion.

He cocked his head, probably waiting for her to tell him what she needed, and possibly, wondering why she was shamlessly ogling him. Two questions, one answer. Darcy wanted him, even though she knew she shouldn't, but she couldn't exactly throw that out there. The same power that attracted her also served to warn her off, his presence more convincing of his dangerous past than anything Fury could tell her.

Another wave of pain hit her, harder this time, as though she'd taken a deep breath, and considering her line of thought she probably had. Darcy groaned, curling up then immediately stretching back out as her ribs screamed and her heartbeat throbbed in the knot on her forehead and she couldn't catch her breath and didn't want to. Just as she thought she was going to die and was pretty okay with it, she felt cool hands on her shoulders, then the bed dipped and she was enveloped in strong, gentle arms and the scent of leather and man. His voice, that soft hypnotic voice, whispered words in a beautiful language she didn't understand and her pain lessened, her breath easing, her heartrate slowing until she could think again. Had he cast a spell on her? Or was his proximity, his touch, a kind of magic on its own?

The back of Darcy's head lolled on his shoulder and she looked up at him, eyes level with his firm lips. They were still moving, wrapping around lyrical syllables, flashing his straight white teeth and the tip of his supposedly silver tongue and her dream flashed back at her, mixing with the reality of being so close to him. And even though it was wrong, so wrong, and no one would understand and they might hate her for it, despite the fact that he probably wasn't even interested, she couldn't stop the way her heart fluttered and her stomach clenched. His face moved lower, the smooth skin of his jaw sliding against her temple and she thought she'd die if she didn't kiss him.

Her lips parted and she wet them, tilting her head up further, so ready to find out what he tasted like.

The door banged loudly against the wall and then Darcy was flopping back against her pillow, Loki across the room between one blink and another, Bruce Banner backing into the room with a cart of food. Darcy groaned again, as much from the return of her pain as the loss of an opportunity she wasn't sure she'd ever get another shot at. Loki was far away from her now, standing in his regal way, and she noticed he didn't look at her, focusing instead on Bruce, his slightly panicked eyes locking onto the guy like a he was a life preserver. Crap.

Bruce turned, brandishing his cart to Darcy and Loki, apparantly unaware of what he'd interrupted. Darcy wanted to be mad at him, she really did, but Bruce had a way about him that was instantly disarming. She wondered idly if that was his natural personality or if it was something he'd picked up while trying to control the Hulk. He had brought more pain medicine along with the food, milder this time, and any ire she felt melted away. He was a good guy.

Darcy hadn't realized how hungry she was until she started eating and Bruce had to slow her down. Throwing up was definitely something she did not want right now. So she ate carefully, only half paying attention to whatever Bruce was saying, sneaking glances at Loki as he elegantly accepted his own plate of food. Geez, the man even ate beautifully. Her mind flashed back to the first time she'd seen Thor eat and thought nothing marked them as adopted brothers more than their table manners. Loki was careful and dignified, almost ceremonial in the way he cut his food and patted his napkin against his mouth. Thor preferred the shovel method.

She giggled a little at the thought, and Loki's eyes shot to hers, his face telling her that he knew she'd been watching him and that he might not mind, maybe. Time seemed to slow and she felt trapped by the intensity of his gaze and she didn't want to get free. This man had saved her life, watched over her and comforted her when she was in pain. He wasn't innocent, his mind definitely damaged goods, but he wasn't the monster everyone thought him to be either. He was a puzzle, a dangerous one Darcy desperately wanted to solve.

From the corner of her eye, Darcy noticed but didn't really process the fact that Bruce had stopped talking and was looking back and forth between her and Loki, an unscrutable expression on his face.

**Author's Note: Bruce Banner was not intended to be a big part of this story, but he just keeps showing up! I like it though, that Bruce can understand Loki and his fight against the monster within. Plus, Mark Ruffalo. :)**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hello all, thanks again for all the feedback! This chapter was the hardest for me to write for some reason and I hope I did your expectations justice. Enjoy!**

* * *

Pacing wasn't helping calm his chaotic thoughts, he'd always preferred to be still and observe, but Loki couldn't seem to stop. He felt as if he were being pursued, chased like a fox though he was alone in his room, and that feeling was driving him mad. He was free to move about the helicarrier as he pleased but remained imprisoned nonetheless, not so much avoiding the hostile stares from the others on board as the curious one from Bruce Banner. The man had an unnerving knowledge in his eyes, and Loki wanted to attribute the discomfort it caused him to the damage Banner's alternate self could inflict upon even a god, but one of the things his punishment had forced on him was to admit the truth, if only to himself.

He was trapped here, confined and held by invisible chains that were all the stronger for their lack of physical substance. There was nothing of import to fight against or scheme his way out of, nothing at which to direct his madness when it arose. He no longer cared to impress his father or his brother, having recognized the impossibility of the former through blood and bone and tears, while the latter refused to accept that Loki had ever truly felt the need. Thor was a changed man since his banishment from and subsequent return to Asgard, an arrogant and foolish boy matured in the way only heartbreak could accomplish, a new weight settled on his broad shoulders by responsibility and obligation to a little brother that he loved too much to let go. Loki didn't understand why his brother held him in such high regard after everything he'd intentionally done to hurt him, the only explanation that made sense was that Thor was simply a sentimental being who held on tight to the familiar, even to his own detriment. And while he felt the need to repay the loyalty, Loki couldn't say that what he felt for Thor was love anymore, if indeed it ever had been. After his torture the only memories he had kept of their relationship were the constant seeking of approval and respect, of some way to best him, to be more than just a tag-along shadowing their group of friends, only tolerated because he could usually talk their way out of trouble if they needed him to. A useful magician and a convenient liar. A boy desperate for attention, a man whose wrath had twisted his mind, bent on vengence for the lie his life had been.

Despite his brief show toward Fury and the occasional flare of temper, he wasn't even angry anymore, not really. His spirit had been broken at Odin's order of unrelenting physical pain and mental anguish, the reigning in of his control and the temperance of his madness leaving him hollow. And although he participated in the war now, fought alongside his brother and the Avengers, he had no real personal stake in the outcome and neither the heat of battle nor the rush of victory could affect him. He was aimless, without passion or purpose.

And Banner's stare said the man knew it.

Loki shook his head and messaged his temples, the thought of Banner leading inevitably to thoughts of Darcy Lewis, as Banner had certainly witnessed whatever had happened between them in the infirmary. Which provided yet another reason to avoid him.

He should have left her as soon as she'd opened her eyes, had planned to, but found himself unable to desert her in her pain. Her voice had been hoarse from sleep, her hair disheveled and her skin flushed a bit as though feverish. She'd stared at him so intently, eyes moving up and down his body before locking on his face, the memory alone enough to cause him to shift uncomfortably. He wondered where her mind had been then, her expression soft and lovely and similar to the one she'd been wearing before, when she'd called him beautiful. It had been obvious she still held that opinion and though he'd been entertaining such thoughts himself just moments before he nevertheless felt surprised that she found him so attractive. She hadn't had the look of someone settling for the younger brother because she couldn't have Thor or the speculation of what consorting with a god could bring her, which based on his experience was what he would have expected, but rather the look of a woman hungry for a man.

The forceful return of her pain had broken the moment and she contorted on the bed in agony until he'd found himself next to her, holding her and whispering words of comfort in Old Norse, reciting an ancient poem mothers had sang to their children in those days. She'd relaxed in his embrace as though boneless, her head rolling on his shoulder, and he'd closed his eyes, taking comfort in the feel of her against him. Her face turned toward his and he'd dipped his down, their skin sliding, her breath warm on his chin. He'd looked down at her then, watching the tip of her tongue sweep across her lips and he wondered now if she'd meant to kiss him. It wasn't something he'd ever allowed before, even from the women he'd bedded; the action seemed too close, too intimate for his comfort. Would he have let her, if Banner hadn't come into the room?

Yes, he would.

Though it hadn't occurred to him at the time, if she had pressed her lips against his, he would have been surprised but doubted he would have done anything to stop her. He had been caught up in a rare moment, an unexpected peace washing through him, and reflecting on it now, he supposed it would have been the perfect situation for his first kiss. When Banner opened the door, Loki had teleported across the room, as much to protect her reputation among her friends as to save himself from answering any questions.

Hers. Banner's. Or his own.

In retrospect, he wasn't at all certain exactly what had transpired with Darcy but thought it probably best to keep his distance from now on. A friendship of sorts with him, kisses or not, would do her no favors. He was toxic, as evidenced by the near constant sorrow on his brother's face, and although she was an adult by Midgard's standards, she was still very young. She had a life in front of her and he wasn't to be part of it, except to protect it if the need arose again.

A knock on his door brought his head around and he expected Thor to be standing behind it. Instead it was Bruce Banner, hands in the pockets of his slacks, rocking a little back and forth on his feet. Those unfamiliar with Banner would assume it a nervous motion, but in truth he was rarely completely still, as though the other presence in him was an itch he didn't wish to scratch. They were both quiet for a while, each assessing the other. Banner broke the silence.

"Darcy was moved back to her room."

Loki didn't respond, mostly because he had no idea what to say. Banner had obviously seen the connection he'd had with Darcy, whatever it was, but Loki wasn't sure of the motivation behind mentioning it. Did Banner want something? Was he trying to blackmail him? It didn't seem likely; despite the Hulk's aggression Banner himself had always seemed benevolent, gentle even. If he was telling Loki where she was, again, it didn't appear the man was warning him off or questioning his intentions toward her, so what was he doing?

"She asked about you." Banner cleared his throat, as if that conversation had been an uncomfortable one. "Like I said before, I know you didn't mean to hurt her. And I don't believe you had any selfish goals when you rescued her. Most of us agree on that one. Fury was just being a prick."

"I believe that is an adequate description."

Banner laughed a little, and Loki felt the corner of his lips lift in return. Banner rocked some more, a genuine smile spreading on his face briefly, then he cleared his throat again.

"Darcy is a great girl. She's underappreciate around here but she keeps things from getting too morbid. She keeps things light. We need that, you know? Light."

Loki turned away at that, realizing the direction Banner was taking this discussion. He raised his hands, trying to descern the best way to tell Banner that he had no designs upon Darcy, had no need for her light, although that wasn't exactly true. He might need it but he wasn't going to ruin her life by getting involved with her, in any way. But Banner cut in, surprising him.

"Like I also said before, I understand the monster in you, Loki. I know what its like to avoid any kind of relationship out of fear of yourself, but I can tell you that it still doesn't make you safe. Just like your monster doesn't make you evil." Loki felt his temper flare, and gave the man a dark look. He was treading on dangerous territory. But Banner didn't back down, instead he stepped father into the room and came right up to Loki's face. "Just like you, I've done things many would consider evil, destroyed entire towns, hurt innocent people. I've been the bad guy before. I've only recently been able to take better control of the other guy, and even now I'm never really sure he'll listen to me."

Banner looked at the floor for a moment, and when he met Loki's gaze again, his eyes glowed with the fire of the Hulk and his voice deepened to a low growl. "Joining this team has been the BEST thing that could have happened for me right now, even though it wasn't what I wanted, even though it was dangerous. Because the more I grow to care about these people, the easier it is to control our reactions when it counts."

Banner paused again, taking deep breaths, shaking with effort, and when he looked up this time his face and voice were soft again. "You had the right reaction when it counted, Loki. You saved Darcy's life. Nobody forced you to do that. Good can win over evil; you and I are living proof."

Tony Stark stuck his head in the door with a shout to suit up, saving Loki from having to formulate an answer. Another battle was beginning, and for the first time since his return Loki was looking forward to it.

Right now, he really wanted to kill something.


	7. Chapter 7

**Okay, so this chapter breaks the mold a bit. Normally I switch between Darcy and Loki centric chapters, getting their full emotional response to the same situations, which is what I did in the first half of this one. The second half goes back and forth between them, and I hope it isn't confusing or distracting, but I felt like it was time for a little less inner monologue and a lot more action! ;) Ask and ye shall receive! Enjoy!**

* * *

Darcy hated the rooms on the helicarrier. She really shouldn't complain, since convincing everyone she didn't have any internal injuries or an infection had taken hours, and she was glad to have the IV out, but dang. Was it really necessary to the cause of protecting the world to paint everything grey? She huffed a breath, trying to get comfortable in the military-type cot with its grey sheets and her grey pillowcase, staring at nothing but grey walls. Her ribs were still pretty sore, but she was feeling restless, never being one to stay put for very long especially since SHIELD still hadn't returned her IPod. She'd promised Jane that she would stay in bed, but patience wasn't Darcy's strong suit, and she doubted laying here obsessing over a certain God of Mischief who took her breath away despite being totally off her menu counted as respiratory therapy anyway. Getting up, she finger combed her hair and checked out her colllection of bruises, noting that the swelling had gone down on her forehead, even if she still looked like a rorschach test. At least she'd gotten to take a shower and put on her own cothes, though her sweats and t-shirt weren't much of an improvement over the scrubs. Shoving her feet into tennis shoes, she left the room and wandered down the hall, standing as straight as she could so no one would make her go back to bed.

Her mind wandered with her legs, reliving the moments with Loki in the infirmary, wondering if she would ever get that close to him again. Considering how fast he'd beat feet out of there at the first halfway polite opportunity, and considering how she looked right now, she had to doubt it. There was definite heat between them, even through his distant aloofness she had felt his stare like a wildfire on her skin. Bruce had cleared his throat a few times before they'd noticed and he had bounced his eyes between them like a cartoon character. Later he had come by her room to check in and she had grilled him about Loki; he didn't know much more than she did but warned her not to believe all the mythology about him. Vikings were heavy drinkers and legends tended to get exaggerated quite a bit. She'd already figured as much, but giggled anyway, remembering some of the more outlandish tales about her two favorite Asgardians. Bruce clearly knew she was into Loki, and he'd plainly seen the chemistry between them, and while he'd been uncomfortable as the middle man he hadn't really seemed to mind the thought of them together. Then again, he most likely thought it was a girlish crush and that a millenia-old god wouldn't lower himself enough to date a human, and he was probably right. Darcy had an immature thing for bad boys, and he'd saved her life in dramatic fashion, and Loki was not like Thor, who had fallen for Jane in just two days. Darcy really needed to get real and leave the fantasies for her dreams.

She sighed, the squared her shoulders as much as she was able, walking into the Situation Room, as she'd brilliantly dubbed the conference room with the comfy chairs and the best snacks. She frowned. Didn't there used to be one of those glass walls that SHIELD seemed so fond of there? Were they redecorating? Maybe they'd gotten as bored with the grey paint as she had.

Nick Fury was there with Tony, Pepper standing at his side, holding his hand and looking worried.

"The helicarrier is on complete lockdown as soon as we land. No unauthorized personnel are to depart, for any reason other than a direct attack. Is that clear, Ms. Lewis?"

The one-eyed pirate in black leather glared at her, and she nodded even though she wanted to tell him not to order her around. She wouldn't be much help to anyone in this condition though, and had enough sense to know it. Fury and company left and she leaned against the table, fiddling with the remote to see if the battle had started yet. She didn't like the ball of worry in her stomach, worse this time than usual, and liked the reason for it even less. Loki was a god, he would be fine, and she didn't think he'd appreciate her getting all girly about it. Her friends were superheroes; they put themselves in danger all the time to save the world and had always come back okay and she told herself that today would be no different and that was that.

* * *

As he headed down the hallway with Banner, Loki was wound tight and could sense the same in the other man, the Hulk becoming more obvious in his face and movements, both ready for a good fight. His temper was still simmering under the surface from Banner's speech, and he let it rise to boiling, infusing his body and magic in closely restrained anger, the muscles in his arms and legs tense and cold energy snapping in the air around him. He hoped the Hulk didn't end the battle so quickly this time, hoped he had time to release the sudden bitter fury that filled him.

He noticed Darcy in the conference room and stopped short, Hulk too close to the surface for Banner to wait for him, which was most likely for the best anyway. Loki didn't really want to scare her, but he needed to make sure she stayed inside this time, out of harm's way, even if he had to be less than cordial to do it.

"Stay here. Do not leave this room. Do you understand."

Darcy had been watching the satellite feeds when Loki stalked into the room, her earlier panther analogy strikingly appropriate to the way he looked right then. His golden armor gleamed menacingly, and his eyes burned with unholy fire, and she was reminded of his power and the things he was capable of, fear overriding her attraction for a moment. His voice was low, harsh and sharp as a dagger and his tone brooked no arguement, only acquiesence. Darcy knew she should just nod an answer like she had with Fury, get him out of this suddenly small room with her and on his way into the fight he so obviously wanted. She swallowed hard instead, trying to find her voice and her courage.

"I'll stay, but only if you promise to watch your back out there."

"You will stay regardless, mortal."

Darcy shivered, his voice was dangerously low now as he reminded her of their differences. She pressed though, forcing herself not to shrink away from him as she shook her head.

"Promise me."

Loki's temper blazed in the face of her defiance, and he stepped closer, intimidating her even as he respected her bravery. He loomed over her slight form, leaning in, crowding, wanting to see the fear in her eyes now. And she was afraid of him in this moment. He planted his hands on the table on either side of her, effectively trapping her in front of him, and he leaned down further, whispering evilly in her ear, letting his breath frost in her hair.

"Do not test me, little one. You will not like the results. I am not a mortal man to be manipulated. I am a god. And you will do as I command."

He heard her gasp again, her head nodding, and he knew he'd finally gotten through to her fear. She was shaking and some part of him knew he'd regret that later, even as it thrilled him now. He looked at her face and grabbed her jaw firmly enough to make her meet his eyes, another scare tactic but not enough to actually hurt her. She was breathing hard, her mouth open, and she licked her lips and suddenly his mind wasn't on frightening her anymore.

Darcy was glad for the table behind her because without it she would surely be a heap in the floor. Loki was terrifying like this, his anger barely leashed, his big body and intense face so close, and his hand on her face and throat a reminder that he could snap her neck without a second thought. He was the mad God of Lies like this, the evil God of Mischief, and while she was truly afraid of him, she had the passing thought that he still managed to be beautiful even as his icy breath brought to mind his true nature. She felt stupid for wanting him in this situation, fear and intimidation didn't get her off, but he wasn't hurting her and something told her he wouldn't. Her body relaxed a little so that she wasn't leaning away from him anymore and their faces were a mere breath apart, another movement and their noses would touch, and she wanted that to happen.

"Promise. Me."

Loki didn't know who made the first move and didn't care, couldn't think beyond the feeling of her mouth under his. Lips, tongues, teeth, crashing together in an intoxicating combination of rough and tender, her taste an explosion in his brain, a kaleidescope of colors behind his eyelids, her passion a fuel to his fire. The kiss went on and on and he knew that even if he'd had a thousand kisses hers would be extraordinary, and when she licked his teeth and bit his lower lip he groaned, trying not to crush her against him so he didn't hurt her, but she was pushing him past his control.

Darcy tasted a bit of blood when his teeth knocked against her lip but she didn't care because he was kissing her like he'd never kissed anyone before and wouldn't get the chance again. She was overwhelmed by him, by his ferocity and his tenderness and the way his breath was cold but his tongue was warm and how he tasted like apples and spice. She slid a hand to the back of his neck, dipping her fingers under his collar and tangling in his soft hair, pulling a little when he turned his head to kiss her from a new angle. He growled into her mouth and nipped her again with his teeth, swiping his tongue over her lip to sooth the little punishment.

When they finally broke apart they were both breathing hard, faces flushed and lips swollen from the passion of their kisses and he rested his forehead against hers.

"I promise."

And then he was gone.


	8. Chapter 8

**Thanks so much again for the reveiws and favs/follows! I let out a little squeal everytime I get a new one, which makes my husband question my sanity, I think. :) So glad so many of you liked the kiss! It was a lot of fun to write. So here's the new chap. Enjoy!**

* * *

Loki stood in the conference room after hours of debriefing with the Avengers, all of whom appeared exhausted and battered from the fighting, Stark and Thor impatient to be reunited with their women. The battle had been unusually brutal and they had all been injured; Agent Romanov was nursing a particularly nasty shoulder hit, Agent Barton was limping, and Tony Stark had a gash on his forearm where his Iron Man suit had been crushed against it. Steve Rogers' broken arm looked painful, but was already healing. Loki and Thor were somewhat better off, mostly with abrasions and sore muscles, and Banner was half asleep, the Hulk taking more out of the man than the actual fighting. It had been an important victory, hard won, and it seemed to have turned the tide in the war. They had defeated a sizable portion of Thanos's army and the warlord would have to retreat for a while to replenish his numbers, during which time the Avengers could strategize and go on the offensive.

He leaned against the table, arms crossed, next to the chair Banner was napping in, surprisingly comfortable. The two had fought well together, as much as Loki was reluctant to admit it; he and Thor had lined up the enemy soldiers for Hulk to swat down like flies. The team had become quite the cohesive unit since their initial assembly against him, and to the shock of everyone, he had actually found a fit among them. They might not like him, might not trust him, but today they had learned to rely on him during battle.

When the onslaught first began he had still been distracted, Banner giving him a curious look that had turned into a grin as he'd taken in finger-rumpled hair and a reddened mouth. Loki had glared at him, and Banner laughed even as he changed form. The Hulk had shot him a grimace that said the beast shared Banner's humor at the situation, before leaping headlong into the fray. A lightening-like bolt of energy had hit Loki then, focusing him on the matter at hand instead of Darcy's lips, and reignited his anger. He'd thrown himself into the fighting, blasting with his magic, creating clones of himself to confuse the enemy, engaging in quick and dirty hand-to-hand combat when necessary. As he ducked and twirled and kicked he kept the promise he'd made to watch his back, attacking and defending with equal fury and precision, finally regaining a measure of his previous passion, though he had a feeling that had more to do with _that_ kiss than the action outside. Loki had lost himself in a warrior's joy, the pure thrill of violence rushing through him, the void in his heart filled for a moment because he had something, someone, to fight for.

Not that one kiss made her his. Even if it had been _that_ kiss.

Loki tried not to think of it, tried not to remember the way he'd intimidated her, how ready he'd been to unleash his wrath upon her for her insolence, and he prayed she hadn't felt forced to kiss him, though considering her enthusiasm that seemed unlikely. He may have never engaged in the act before, but he knew enough to know that it hadn't been a casual encounter for either of them. He'd experienced less raw emotion during much more _involved_ physical contact, her uninhibited hunger striking and primitive. It had been the most honest thing he'd ever known.

"Are you listening over there, Shakespeare?"

Loki was drawn out of his reverie at Stark's snide comment, glancing up to see the man smirking in his usual way. He didn't bother with a response; it had been obvious his thoughts were elsewhere and he caught a few stares, as if some thought he might be plotting something. He didn't correct them, letting them think what they wished.

"Let's all just get some rest." Rogers, ever the diplomat, broke the sudden tension in the room. Everyone slowly filed out into the hall, each on their way to relax by his or her own method. The furtive looks between Agents Romanov and Barton suggested they would be sharing a bed before the night was through, and Loki wondered how much longer they thought to keep their relationship a secret, especially since it was one everyone already knew. Thor's big hand clapped Loki's shoulder as he walked by, and his face seemed to have fewer lines in it despite being battle weary, a new hope flickering in his eyes for Loki's acceptance as part of the group, tentative though it was. Loki nodded at his brother, unwilling for the moment to dampen the glimmer of Thor's former optimism, foolish as he believed it to be.

On the way to his room he was unable to resist glancing down the hall toward where he thought Darcy's quarters to be. Would she want to see him, to make sure he'd come back unharmed? His lips tingled at the thought, a spear of adrenaline shooting up his spine as he pictured a welcome on par with his departure. Would she kiss him again, or would she be awkward because she'd never really meant to kiss him in the first place? She'd certainly seemed pleased at the time, but perhaps that had been a fear response. He paused mid-stride, seriously considering paying her a visit, then decided against it. She hadn't been around when they'd come back from the fighting so she was either resting her own injuries or purposely avoiding him, which was much better for her than a visit from him anyway.

Another hand on his shoulder stopped him at his door and he sighed, knowing he'd been caught and not in the mood for this discussion.

"Leave me be, Banner. I care not what you think you know."

Banner chuckled lightly behind him, a genuinely friendly sound that lacked any inflection that he was laughing at Loki. "Are you kidding? We definitely need to talk, buddy."

Loki let out another longsuffering sigh and entered his room, Banner right on his heels as if to prevent the door slamming in his face. Perhaps if he ignored the man for long enough, Banner would become bored and just leave. He turned his back and began removing his heavy gold armor, the physical process straining without his magic, which he'd seriously depleted in the fight. Banner unfortunately didn't seem to mind being dismissed, instead making himself comfortable in the rolling chair at the desk in the corner of the room, though he did make a point of looking in the other direction when Loki stripped out of his bloodstained leather garments. He wondered briefly if the man would leave if he remained nude, knowing how uncomfortable men of this age on Earth were with such things, but one look at the stubborn angle of Banner's chin told him it wouldn't work. Besides, it was likely someone else would come bursting in uninvited, Thor or Stark most likely, and while Thor would think nothing of it he did not want to have to deal with a new source of Stark's crass humor. He found the dark cotton pants he had been sleeping in since returning to Earth and pulled them on, then turned to level a cool stare at Banner and crossed his arms, waiting.

"Thank God for pajama pants."

The humor in Banner's face was too difficult to resist in his tired state, and he couldn't help but appreciate the man's good-natured reaction, as well as the simple pleasure of mischief-making again after so long, and Loki smiled in spite of himself. What strange mortals he was surrounded by, the thought coming to him not for the first time, and he shook his head, sharing a laugh with his...friend. Yes, that felt right. Banner was his friend.

"So, are you going to tell me what happened with Darcy or do I get to guess?"

Loki shook his head again, not sure what to say; he found himself almost desperate to talk, for some reason, but he didn't want to say anything that might embarrass Darcy. The look in Banner's eyes said that he already knew, and that he didn't want to have Hulk smash him into the concrete again over it, and that he could be trusted.

"She kissed me. Or I kissed her. To be honest, I'm not exactly certain how it happened."

"So are you guys together now? Because I don't know how that's going to go over." Banner paused, gathering his thoughts. "Personally, I don't mind. I think it makes a weird sort of sense, actually. But the others..."

"It was merely one kiss in a heated moment, Banner. Don't let yourself get carried away on some romantic tide."

"Oh. So it wasn't good, then?" Banner shot him a sly look, even though he must know that Loki could see right through it.

"Do not think to con me, mortal. I am far superior to you in such things." He reverted to being high-handed, thinking it was better to risk offense at this point than to share any details of just how good the kiss had been. But Banner just laughed again, spinning a circle in the chair as though he hadn't a care in the world. Loki took no slight at the deception.

"I'm just saying, if it wasn't that good of a kiss, and you guys aren't together, you won't mind if I ask her out, maybe see if she kisses me better than you."

Loki was across the room, hands locked on Banner's throat, knocking him out of the chair and sprawling them both out on the floor before he even realized he'd moved. Banner's hands gripped his wrists, eyes ablaze, just enough of the Hulk's strength breaking through to keep Loki from doing any real damage.

"Good to know..." Banner paused for a breath. "You aren't getting..." another breath, "...carried away."

Loki released his friend's throat and rocked back on his haunches, pushing one hand through his hair and offering the other to Banner, who took it and sat up.

"Look man, I'm not trying to bust you over this. I only said that to get you to react, and you did. Check your reactions right now. They're a lot more telling than your words."

Loki was already shaking his head. "Getting involved would not be good for her, Banner. You said as much yourself."

"It's a little late for that, Loki. Why don't you let her make up her own mind about what's good for her. She's young, but she isn't stupid."

The door opened and Darcy walked into the room, effectively ending the conversation and leaving both men wondering how long she'd been standing there, how much she'd heard.

By the look on her face, Loki suspected it had been plenty.


	9. Chapter 9

**This is a really long chapter, sorry! Hope it isn't too tedious to read. I wanted to get Darcy's emotional stuff in there and perhaps give an answer the last chapter's cliffhanger. I'm thinking this story is almost finished, maybe another chapter and then an epilogue. Anyway, reviews are chocolate. Enjoy!**

* * *

After being absolutely devastated by the power of Loki's kiss, Darcy had stood in the conference room where he'd left her, clutching the table to keep from falling in the floor until Jane had found her and forced her back to her room for more rest, although thankfully Jane had attributed the heavy breathing and flushed face to pain rather than pleasure. Looking in her mirror, Darcy expected her hair to be standing on end and an imprint of Loki's mouth burned onto hers, sure that the surprisingly calloused pads of his fingertips had left scorch marks on her chin and throat, but she'd appeared normal enough she supposed, if no one got picky about puffy red lips and dilated pupils and hooded eyelids. Personally, Darcy thought she looked downright pornographic, wondering how Jane had missed it, but then again, she had the context replaying in her mind over and over, which didn't help slow her breathing. It shouldn't have come as a surprise that Loki could completely overwhelm her, that he was capable of taking her from terrified to utterly aroused with such a simple thing as a kiss, that he could command her entire being by only touching her face. He was a god, after all, though how he wasn't known as the God of Oh-Yes-_Please_-_**YES**_ was beyond her.

Seeking a distraction, Darcy flopped on her bed and grabbed the digital tablet she'd swiped from the conference room and surfed through the satellite images until she found the the Avengers and Loki fighting Thanos's army, watching Captain America and Hawkeye clear a section of street as Iron Man circled overhead, while Black Widow pulled a duck-and-roll, firing her guns at something that didn't look happy about it. Darcy switched to another feed, finding Thor flying through the air with Mjolnir, driving the enemy back toward Hulk, who pulverized them with his massive fists, stomping them occassionally just for fun. And finally, she saw Loki, or rather about ten of him, surrounding some kind of creature, taunting it for a moment before firing a blue bolt from his palm that knocked the thing back into a building. She watched him, her fear returning, both for his safety and for his power, a manic grin stretching his handsome face into a war grimace, bloodlust and fierce satisfaction animating his expressions into something truly scary. Two more creatures came at him and he manifested a golden staff, pushing one back with a wicked one-handed swing, then planting the staff on the ground and jumping, using his momentum to whip his body around and drive both of his boots straight into the chest of the other. He twisted and pulled a full-on Matrix, leaning way back to dodge an attack, then flipped up and blasted more magic from his hand. He was amazing and frightening, mesmerizing and beautiful, his movements as fluid and sensuous as a choreographed dance, and Darcy couldn't have looked away if the room had been on fire.

When it was over, the enemy army decimated and scattered, Loki and the Avengers all looking worse for wear but safe and whole, she shot out of the room, running full tilt down the hall, desperate with unfamiliar panic to see him, to look into his eyes, to touch him and convince herself that he was really okay despite the fact that he was a god and could more than handle a fight. If she could just get to him, maybe her heart would ease back down out of her throat and her hands wouldn't be clammy anymore, maybe these emotions would recede and her eyes would clear. She didn't even think about what she'd do when she saw him, wasn't sure he would welcome her throwing herself into his arms like she wanted to.

As she rounded the corner too fast, she nearly tripped over her own feet in front of half a dozen SHIELD agents who were blocking the way to the Situation Room, and she couldn't catch her breath to protest as they ushered her into a small lounge with Jane and Pepper, muttering about "no interruptions during debriefing." She saw the top of Loki's dark head over an agent's shoulder and she tried to call out to him but the agent shut the door in her face before his name left her mouth. Darcy grabbed the handle, trying to wrench the door back open, but it wouldn't budge and she slapped her palms on the metal in frustration. Calling them every name in the book, and a few she made up along the way, Darcy turned and met the shocked expressions on Jane's and Pepper's faces. Oops. She'd totally forgotten they were there. Busted.

"Darcy. What the hell." Jane's tone was harsh with disbelief. There was no way she hadn't heard whose name Darcy had called, no way to lie her way of it or brush it off with some silly commentary on SHIELD's anal retentive protocols. Jane was often oblivious to even blatant outbursts, her brilliant mind literally a million miles away, but Darcy knew there would be no getting out of this one, and for some reason, Jane's self-righteous anger made her mad as well. Lifting her chin, she walked passed her friend and perused the vending machine, as though there was nothing more important right now than the decision between a sweet snack or a salty one. Jane had already figured out that Darcy had formed some kind of attachment to Loki, she wasn't happy about it, and she expected an explanation and possibly an apology that Darcy wasn't about to give her.

"Is this why he saved you the other day? Because you're...because you two are..." Pepper let the question trail off, more diplomatic, but still clearly expecting an answer.

"He saved me because he's not the villian anymore." Darcy practically growled at them, pissed off even if she did understand where they were coming from. Loki had done a lot of damage not too long ago, although Thor had explained that time had been manipulated for Loki's punishment. Three hundred years worth from what he'd said, and Darcy had seen the shadows behind Loki's eyes enough to believe it hadn't been a pleasant experience. He'd been crazy and sick before, manic in his quest to take over their world, and now he was remote and cold, keeping his distance from everyone.

Until he'd saved her life.

Jane huffed and turned away, and Pepper looked disappointed and sad, as though Darcy had kicked a box of puppies or something, and it blew the top off her temper.

"You are so hypocritical, both of you." Darcy's voice was a mere whisper, not because she didn't want to yell, but rather because she was literally choking on her rage. "How many people have been killed by Stark weapons over the years? Innocent people, caught in the middle of a war cooked up by their governments? Before Iron Man, Tony was a war-profiteer and you worked for him then, Pepper. And Jane, how many people has Thor hurt or killed in his lifetime? Thousands? He's a god, and he lived his whole life until we met him glorified by war and battle. He was banished here in the first place for picking a fight and starting a war. Loki isn't innocent but if **they** can change and become better men, why can't he? He's fighting for **our** side now, defending **us**, and if you can't handle that, if you can't at least try to accept that he's changed, then you don't deserve the happiness you've been blessed with."

She wanted to storm out of the room then and leave them to stew in her disgust, but the door was still locked from the outside, so she just sat on the couch and glared at them. So much for making a grand exit. Pepper had the decency to blush, nodding a concession of the point to Darcy, but Jane just turned away and sat in a chair across the room. The next few hours were excrutiating, silent after Pepper tried a few times to make conversation and failed, all three women worried about their men and their friends and the uncertainty of the future. By the time Tony opened the door and grabbed Pepper in a hug, the tension had become so thick it was hard to breathe, though the anger had dissipated into something more like despair. Thor came in behind him and picked Jane up off her feet and pressed his lips to her forehead, and Jane met Darcy's eyes around his blond head, tears and sorrow and understanding passing between them, and Jane mouthed "I'm sorry" as she was carried out of the room by the love of her life.

Darcy felt like crap for yelling at her friend, for the fact that Jane still couldn't accept Loki, that she herself didn't even know exactly how she'd managed to fall for a man who may not be capable of returning her feelings and may not even really want her. Despite the heat between them, he was still a god with some serious issues, and she knew he had been angry when he'd kissed her. Hell, she'd needled him until he'd gotten in her face, had practically dared him to do something with her back-sassing. Maybe he'd only kissed her to scare her or maybe it was just a control thing. He'd seemed really into it at the time, but hello, God of Lies and it wasn't like she'd been overly analytical of the situation until now. Was she being stupid, like Jane apparently thought, just walking into a bad thing with her eyes wide shut? She didn't think he was playing her, he'd been nothing but kind and concerned since saving her, even when he was intimidating it had been to protect her, but that didn't mean he had any special feelings toward her, and her heart broke a little and she felt stupid about that too.

Suddenly exhausted, she walked down the hall, heading back to her room, where she could curl up and hopefully get some sleep. Her ribs and her head and her heart ached, and all she wanted was to be alone in her misery. She came to the place where the hall branched off, lined with bedrooms, and tried to force herself to turn to the right and continue to her room, but her feet kept going straight instead. She argued silently with them, ordering them to stop before they got to Loki's door, but they didn't listen to her, depositing her right where she didn't want to be. Well, she did still want to see him and make sure he was okay, but not with red puffy eyes and tears dried on her face. Not until she pep-talked herself into being casual with him, like he hadn't knocked her socks off with nothing more than a kiss, like she wasn't straight up pathetic for him now.

Or maybe it would be better this way, to just see him and get it over with, like ripping off a band-aid, then she could safely avoid him for the rest of her life.

Darcy stood in front of his door, immobilized by indecision, her hand half raised to knock, when she heard voices coming from inside his room. Was that laughter? Who was in there with him? She pressed her ear to the door, straining to hear, not caring that she had absolutely no explanation for eavesdropping if someone happened to catch her. "_...I'm just saying... you guys aren't together...if I ask her out...maybe see if she kisses me better than you..._" Then a crash and a thump of bodies on the floor and she jumped back as the door cracked open, Bruce's voice drifting out clearly, if a bit strained.

"Good to know you aren't getting carried away. Look man, I'm not trying to bust you over this. I only said that to get you to react, and you did. Check your reactions right now. They're a lot more telling than your words."

"Getting involved would not be good for her, Banner. You said as much yourself."

"It's a little late for that, Loki. Why don't you let her make up her own mind about what's good for her. She's young, but she isn't stupid."

Darcy practically fell into the room, Loki and Bruce whipping their heads toward her, all of them freezing in a way that would be funny if it hadn't been so strained. Bruce was sitting on the floor, legs sprawled and glasses crooked on his nose while Loki crounched next to him in black pajama bottoms, looking at her over his bare shoulder. Bare, naked shoulders, leading to toned arms, his muscular back long and lean above deliciously narrow hips...Darcy shook her head hard, trying to dispell the wave of lust that rocked her to the core, focusing instead on the unintended confession she'd heard. Loki felt enough for her to attack Bruce, the one person on Earth who could kick his butt? God, nice butt...

Bruce broke the awkward silence, a laugh in his voice. "I'll just leave you two to, uh, talk or whatever." He climbed to his feet, snatching a Kleenex from the desk and swiping Darcy's chin with it on his way out, and she blushed, really hoping he was joking. Not that Loki wasn't totally drool-worthy, but she hoped at least it hadn't been visible.

Loki drew himself up from his crounch like a sleek predator, facing her, and she became distracted all over again. His chest was no less impressive than his back, not hugely stacked like Thor but tightly built, his waist narrow and muscled and dear God, was she in trouble. He just stood there and let her look at him, and by the time she'd made it back up to his face she had to make sure there wasn't more drool on her chin. She met his eyes and the silence was intense, not oppressive but rather filling the air with explosive anticipation, even the sound of their breathing amplified, hanging on until she couldn't take it anymore.

"So you and Bruce are friends now, huh?" Nice one, Darcy. Smooth.

He shrugged, his mane of black hair brushing against the pale skin of his shoulder, and she remembered just how soft those strands were, her fingers itching to get into it again. _Say something else, idiot._

"I'm glad you're okay."

"I did promise, did I not?"

His voice was low, soft and melodic, and a shiver went through her as her thoughts went back to that promise. And exactly how she'd gotten it from him. Meeting his eyes again, she lost her breath at the hungry look on his face and knew he was remembering it too. Her thoughts scattered and before she realized what she was doing she had stepped toward him, her hand outstretched to lay against his chest, right above the strong beat of his heart. She watched his eyes darken as his hand came up to touch her face, his long elegant fingers brushing over her lower lip. He closed the distance between them, his movements slow and deliberate as if giving her the chance to back away, and he dipped his head, pausing just before their mouths met, an unspoken request suspended in that small space where their breath mingled, the tension crackling almost audibly in the room.

"Yes, you did." And Darcy pressed her lips to his, kissing him for all she was worth.


	10. Chapter 10

**Sorry for the delay in updates. I have three young kiddos so Halloween is a crazy time for us! This chapter was a beast to write and I really hope it doesn't fall short. I went back to switching between Darcy and Loki's viewpoints, just to get it all in. I'm finished now, the story seems to have gotten away from me. I truly appreciate all of your reads, reviews, favs, and follows. Enjoy.**

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Wrapped in Darcy's embrace, enjoying the feel of her mouth against his, Loki decided that she possessed great skill in the art of kissing, even if he had no one for comparison. Surely not everyone kissed this way, as if the only matter of importance in the universe was the meeting of lips, as if time was suspended into forever by the slide of tongues. How one mortal girl could steal the very breath of a god with such a simple act was lost to his understanding, and he concluded that, in that moment, it didn't concern him in the least. His body roared to life even as his mind shut down, the only thing remaining in the back of it was the thought that she was still injured, that he would have to be careful not to hurt her in his newly awakened passion. But then she slipped her hand into his hair, twisting her fingers around chunks of it, lightly scratching his scalp with her nails, and he jerked her roughly against him, bending her back and taking control of the kiss. She moaned into his mouth, and he started to pull away, afraid that he'd aggravated her ribs, but she tightened her hold on his hair and slid the other hand around to his back, caressing his skin and setting him on fire with her touch. Still, he managed to lift his head a little.

"I don't want to hurt you."

"You're not."

Darcy was as breathless as he was but she didn't care because he started kissing her jaw, her ear, her neck; his tongue swirling patterns across her skin, taking her higher than she'd ever been. His hands were on her waist, slowly sliding up her rib cage, incredibly gentle on her right side, almost tickling her. He smoothed his way down her back, pressing her closer to his heated body until she was enveloped by him, as much a part of him as his silky skin. She clutched at his back and shoulders, buried her nose in his hair, his scent overwhelming, like evergreens on a winter night. He returned to her lips, softly, different from the last kiss they'd shared, but no less devastating to her senses. Last time, he'd been angry, pumped up for a fight, surrounded by intense cold magic. This time he was delicate, almost hesitant, and so sweetly heart-wrenching she actually felt her eyes slick with tears. Loki was not an innocent man, but he wasn't evil. Misguided, tortured, lonely, maybe a little insecure, but not evil at the heart of him. Surely a bad person couldn't hold her so gently, couldn't feather kisses across her temple, couldn't tuck her head under his chin and hug her to him, rocking her tenderly as tremors racked them both.

Loki felt it when her breath hitched, not from passion, but from something much deeper, an echo of what he had felt when she'd called him beautiful in his prison. The kiss that had started out as heatedly as the one before it changed into a silken worship, no less delicious for its more subdued rush, no less potent in its power. It frightened him a little; the hold Darcy had on him was inconcievable, unprecidented in his long life. It went far beyond her physical attractiveness, though he could not deny she pleased his eyes, his hands thoroughly enjoying the curves of her body as she pressed against him. She was a balm to his wounded pride and battered soul, the light Banner had spoken of; she looked at him as though he was more than an unhinged criminal to be rehabilitated or simply ignored or suspected. She seemed to see something in him that was worthy of admiration, something desirable on its own merit, and it made him want deserve her attention, to deserve HER. The very idea would have been laughable only a few days ago, that not only was this mortal not beneath him but that he was the one lacking of her.

Darcy felt Loki take a shuddering breath and she lifted her head from his chest, meeting his eyes. They were troubled, still dark with passion, a longing in them that went beyond the physical. Cupping his face in her hands, she placed soft, chaste kisses on his forehead, his nose, his cheeks, his jaw. Their lips met again, full of genuine tender affection. His head dropped to her shoulder for a moment, then he sighed and stepped back, sitting heavily on the side of the bed, still elegant despite his obvious discomfort with the emotions between them. Darcy fidgeted, uncertain how they'd gone from being all over each other to this somewhat awkward distance, and she missed the warmth of him, wanting it back more than her next breath, not sure what to do though she toyed with a mischievious idea. Did she really have the courage to...?

Whatever. She'd take a chance.

She climbed onto him and sat in his lap.

He had the good grace to look shocked, points for her, but he didn't dump her in the floor so she took that as a positive sign, even though he had stiffened considerably. She lifted his chin with her fingers, smoothing back his hair, massaging away the frown that creased his brow. After a minute he relaxed, wrapping his arms around her again, and she smiled.

"Don't worry, O God of Mischief. Your rep as a badass is safe with me." She teased him a little, trying to lighten his sombre mood. He let out a small laugh, shaking his head at her silliness, then met her gaze, serious once more.

"And what about my heart, Darcy? Is that safe with you as well?"

Loki noticed the surprise on her face, and was sure the same look was mirrored on his own. The question had been on his mind, and while he hadn't planned on speaking it, her reaction kept him from overly regretting it. She stroked his face and hair and chest, eyes shining with emotion for a moment, then she practically attacked him, fusing their mouths once more and pushing him back on the bed. She crawled up his body, devouring his lips, wild and a little desperate. Loki recovered quickly, meeting her hunger with his own, his hands gripping her hips and rolling them over, groaning at the feel of her under him. She whimpered and he immediately lifted himself off of her, but she would have none of that, pulling him back to her, wrapping her arms and legs around him to keep him there.

"Darcy..."

"You're not hurting me, Loki." She was about to go crazy if he didn't stop _stopping_. "The exact opposite of hurting, actually. Now shut up and kiss me."

That seemed to do the trick, because he growled low in his throat and did as she said, biting her lip for her insolence, thrusting his tongue roughly, dominating her and making her love it. Darcy had never been into aggressive making out, but with him it was different, and her body surged under his until he lowered his hips to hold her down. His lovely fingers were probably leaving equally lovely bruises where he still held her hips and part of her couldn't wait to see them. He kissed his way to her throat, sucking hard on the sweet spot just below her ear, grazing her lobe with his teeth and she swore she saw stars behind her eyelids. She ran her hands down his back, scoring him with her nails and he growled again and how she loved the sound of it. She was swept away by his passion, by his concern for her even in the heat of this moment, by the heart he had hidden away in walls of ice. She thought of the unexpected fragility in his beautiful voice when he'd asked her if his heart would be safe with her, and it made her fiercely protective of him, as ridiculous as that sounded. She wanted him to know that, in her eyes, he was a good man and he deserved a second chance, even more the hero for what he had overcome, the madness inside himself that he had fought back.

The kissing went on and on, and Loki knew he needed to put a stop to it; despite what she said Darcy was still injured and he was fast losing control, especially as she nibbled his jaw and licked his chin. She was by turns wicked and submissive, and it made him feel both powerful and helpless; he was both humbled by her honest response and elevated to the highest status by her fervor, the reserve that had been beaten into him shattered by her touch. The kisses moved from hot and wet and untamed to long and leisurely and luscious, until she was forced to break for air. He took the opportunity to sit up, drawing her carefully back into his lap, cradling her as she caught her breath.

"Easy, love." He nuzzled her hair, softly singing an Old Norse lullaby, and she melted against him as she had done before. She played with the ends of his hair, twirling it around her fingers, and he had the thought that there had never been a more peaceful moment in his life. They sat quietly for a time, each fulfilled in the other's arms, until he felt her start to drift off to sleep.

"Darcy." He shook her a little, and she let out a contented sigh, her breath ghosting across his neck.

"I'm awake." She knew it was time to Talk, but Darcy just wanted to feel him a little more. If she'd thought his voice gorgeous before when he'd been speaking, either English or whatever else he spoke, it was nothing compared to his singing. He should have just sang to the world when he wanted to take it over, he'd have had people kneeling quite willingly. She told him as much, and he laughed and it was wonderful. She lifted her head to kiss the smile still on his lips, wide enough that she mostly kissed teeth, and that was pretty wonderful too.

"Things are going to be complicated, you know." His smile was gone now, and even though he was still beautiful when he was brooding, she didn't like it.

"Duh." He rolled his eyes at her response, but the smile came back and she beamed at him. "I don't care. This, whatever it is," she gestured back and forth between them, "it's special. I've never felt like this before and life's too short to worry about what anyone else thinks. When you find something this good, you have to run with it." She paused, her hand on his chest. "You have to keep it safe."

He closed his eyes, her answer both breaking his heart and filling it with hope he had no right to feel, and he wondered if she understood the irony of telling him that life was brief. It was just another reason, besides his penchant for ruining the lives of those he loved, that they shouldn't continue. Her life was finite, as evidenced by her recent activities, and his was considerably less so. It was one more circumstance in a long list standing in the way of a possible relationship, and Loki wasn't as optimistic as she. He shook his head, opening his mouth to tell her that their passion was ill-fated, and was surprised when her hand covered his lips.

"Don't do that." Her voice was soft, but determined. "You're going to start listing all the reasons we can't be together, and I'm not going to be able to argue with them. So just don't."

Tears spilled from her eyes and he brushed them away with the back of his knuckles, removing her hand from his mouth and kissing the wetness from her face, conflicted with his need for her and his need to protect her from the chaos of himself.

"I do not wish to spend what time we have together arguing either." That wasn't really an answer to what she'd said, he knew, but it was true, and he wanted to be honest with her despite his lack of practice with transparency. He sighed, resting his forehead on hers, smiling again when she rubbed her nose against his. "I worry for you, nontheless. It isn't something I can help. I don't want you losing your friends or jeopardizing your future by getting involved with me."

Darcy had to laugh at that, even though he was being serious. "I think our mutual friend Bruce already pointed out that it was a little late for that."

"So he did." Loki smiled back, unable to resist her when she seemed so happy in his arms. It did much to improve his maudlin thoughts, and a little mischief crept into his voice. "You are aware of course that I am a very jealous god, are you not? I will demand much of your...attentions, should you choose to serve me." He waggled his eyebrows and she burst out laughing, the sound as soothing to him as a healing rain.

"Don't think you can get away with that, Mr. High and Mighty. I'll have you know I'm pretty jealous myself, not to mention the legions of people who will testify to my attention-seeking ways." Her smile was pure wickedness, a hand blazing a path down his stomach.

"We shall see who wins this contest of wills, mortal." His hand tangled in her hair. "We shall see."

Hours later, Darcy sleepily decided that they were both rather good at the giving and recieving of attention, and wondered if he'd heard her whispered confession while he'd been otherwise occupied.

Loki watched Darcy fall asleep, wondering if she realized what she'd said to him and deciding that it didn't matter, because as the God of Lies he knew the truth when he heard it.


End file.
